Sucker Punch
by onelildustbunni
Summary: Sweet dreams are made of this...based on the movie of the same title. X-23 and Hellion.
1. Sweet dreams are made of this

**_..._**

**_DISCLAIMERS  
><em>**_"Sweet dreams are made of this" by the Eurythmics__  
>Based on the movie 'Sucker Punch'<em>  
><em>X-men belong to Marvel Inc.<em>  
><em>No money will be made off of the following story<br>Please see author page for the cool graphic I made  
>for this but can't load on here...<em>

_**...**  
><em>

**- SUCKERPUNCH -  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Sweet dreams are made of this...who am I to disagree<strong>

* * *

><p><em><strong>KRAAAA-KOOOOOM!<strong>_

The girl on the bed is hiding her face in her knees, her shoulders hunched protectively around herself as she rocks back and forth. Her hair is darker than the other shadows that fill the room; it alone stays black during the frequent intervals when her room is illuminated by the play of lightning outside her window.

_**CHOOOM!**_

She is listening to the peels of thunder, to the rain beating on the roof, and to the voices raised in argument outside her door. A woman's voice, and a man's. She covers her ears with her hands, tears streaming down her cheeks; one of which bears the slightly reddened imprint of a hand.

The argument breaks into soft murmurs, and there are a few gentle laughs. The girl on the bed tightens her grip around her knees and shudders.

* * *

><p><strong>I travel the world and the seven seas...everybody's looking for something<strong>

* * *

><p>The doctor is murmuring, his expression grim as he straightens. Beneath him is—is—<p>

The girls at the end of bed hold each other, their porcelain-fair skin devoid of color. They are almost identical in appearance, with inky black hair and startling green eyes, held wide beneath thick fringes of eyelashes as they survey the prone form on the mattress.

A form that looks much like them.

The man standing behind them speaks. He is a large person, almost two feet taller than the girls, and about twice their breadth; his head gleams bald above his heavy eyebrows. His face is hard and unyielding, especially around his mouth; he has no laugh lines…only wrinkles gained by frowning.

His strong, weathered hands descend; _wump, wump, _each landing on the shoulder of one of the girls.

They tremble.

* * *

><p><strong>Some of them want to use you<strong>

* * *

><p><em><strong>KRAAA-KOOOM!<strong>_

The thunder rumbles on outside the window. The two girls now sit Indian-style on the bed, clutching each other's arms and shaking slightly.

One of the girls is whispering in her sister's ear, her expression filled with urgency.

The other nods slowly.

Both faces contort with fear, and they look toward the door, then back at each other.

_**RRRRUMMBBBLLEEEE, **_the thunder outside.

The first girl looks down. Her sister pats her shoulder, then asks her something, her face filled with care. Both nodding, the pair stretch out on the bed, whispering into the night.

* * *

><p><strong>Some of them want to get used by you<strong>

* * *

><p>The dirt beneath the two pairs of gleaming black penny loafers is muddy, and welts appear in it often from the falling rain. The girls in the shoes stand under a shared umbrella, also sharing an expression of hollow loss as they watch a long, polished coffin descend into the earth.<p>

"Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust…" murmurs the vicar solemnly, his eyes trained on the small book in his hand. "…in sure and certain hope of the resurrection unto eternal life, through our Lord Jesus Christ; at whose coming in glorious majesty to judge the world, the earth and the sea shall give up their dead; and the corruptible bodies of those who sleep in him shall be changed, and made like unto his own glorious body; according to the mighty working whereby he is able to subdue all things unto himself."

Behind the girls, the eyes of the man linger on the coffin, but do not reflect loss; rather, they are filled with a kind of greed. A vast hunger.

His hands again find the girl's shoulders, and they stiffen, and reach for each other's hands. Their fear-filled eyes tell a story.

"I heard a voice from heaven, saying unto me, write, from henceforth blessed are the dead who die in the Lord: even so saith the Spirit; for they rest from their labors." The Vicar looks up, at the solemn crowd.

"The Lord be with you." He says.

"And with thy spirit," the attendants murmur back. The girls do not seem to possess a voice; only their lips move in the briefest of whispers.

* * *

><p><strong>Some of them want to abuse you<strong>

* * *

><p>"The Last Will and Testament of Sarah Grace Kinney," the lawyer reads, in a voice as greasy as his hair. He thinks about how odd it is that the lady had kept her maiden name, instead of taking her husband's.<p>

The two girls sit on either side of the man, their eyes still wide and uncanny as they stare into space, their eyebrows drawn together in an expression of extreme distress. In the lawyer's opinion, they rather resemble the rabbits he hunts on weekends.

The four people are seated on green, velour furniture in the glamorous parlor of the mansion that Sarah Kinney has left behind, to her only living relatives; these girls, and her husband, the man sitting between them.

Hesitating, the lawyer glances up and meets the man's eyes. How curious…they had been married for only four months at the time of the lady's death. He decides it is none of his business, and continues to read the document aloud.

"Beneficiaries: I give my property to the following persons: One-fourth of my liquid assets to my spouse, and the balance, as well as the estate and my belongings, to my children, equally and their issue, _per stirpes. _These funds are to be released to my children as a monthly allowance of ten dollars; the balance is to be released in full when my daughters reach the age of majority." The lawyer looks up and sees that the man's knuckles have gone white on the girl's shoulders.

After a moment the attorney speaks on, but the girls can no longer hear him.

* * *

><p><strong>Some of them want to be abused<strong>

* * *

><p><em><strong>RRRRRRUUMBBBLEEE!<strong>_

The sisters are lying on the bed again, bundled under the quilts as they whisper to each other. Lightning is streaking across the window pane, in large, brilliant forks.

One of the sisters asks a terse question, her lips and teeth pronouncing the world _kill._

Her twin nods slightly, then replies, her teeth gritted in an expression of ferocity, her eyes flashing in the semi-darkness.

Smiling slowly, her sister reaches out and pats the other girl's hand.

* * *

><p><strong>Sweet dreams are made of this...who am I to disagree<br>**

* * *

><p>One of the girls is screaming, flailing her arms at the larger figure seeking to engulf her in thick, strong arms. Her nails scratch the man's cheek; he roars and with a <em>rippp! <em>tears off a large portion of her sleeve and upper collar.

He leans down and hisses something in her ear, through gritted teeth. Reaching out, he shoves the girl against the wall and with his other hand begins to undo the front of her frilly dress.

_**"NO! NO!" **_The girl's mouth moves clearly in protest, her eyes rolling around the corridor desperately. Her sister's door remains inert; she is alone. With a grunt of effort she brings her knee up into the man's crotch and meets the mass there; he lets out a yell and automatically curls away from her. She slips out and runs down the hall, her bare feet slipping on the shiny wood surface.

The other girl meets her at the end of the hall, and sees her sister's frantic eyes. Her lips move, and her gaze slips past to the man coming toward them.

His arm reaches the distressed girl first, and shoves her aside. She hits the wall and stumbles, while he grabs the newcomer's arm and drags her towards one of the rooms.

Her face speaks of fear.

The door is torn open, then slammed shut. Scrambling to her feet, the girl still in the corridor wipes the blood from her nose with a shaking hand. She hears something, and her lips part and silently mouth the word: _No._

Acting on instinct, she runs down the hallway, not even thinking that she has nothing to defend herself with. Her hand grasps the knob and twists it violently until the door opens; she sees her sister writhing like mad against the man, who is backing her toward the bed.

The girl at the door shouts, her face contorted, the cords of her neck standing out.

Ignoring her, the man pushes her sister closer to the bed. Leaping forward, she grabs at his arms; he flings her across the room again and she hits the windowsill, her head bouncing with a _snap!_

Time seems to slow down.

On her feet again, the girl pounces at the man with hands outstretched. He whirls around; there is a soft _shlunk _sound, and then he steps back, leaving the two sisters facing each other.

There is confusion. The attacking girl sees red bubbles at her twin's lips; hears a strange gurgle in her breath. Her hands feel wet. She looks down, and her veins feel icy as she sees her fists pressed against her sister's torso, surrounded by dark, blossoming stains.

Blood stains.

She stiffens and mouths a question.

The injured sister then looks down at the stains. She meets her sister's eyes as they both look up; then one set of the beautiful green orbs close forever as their owner falls backward, onto the floor.

_No, _the still-standing sister whispers, holding her hands in front of her in shock. There are strange _things_ projecting from between her knuckles; bones, covered in fresh blood, and slime. And pieces of her twin.

_No,_she repeats, in shock.

The man beside her starts to shout, his face twisted in disgust; but the girl doesn't seem to notice his presence. She continues to stare at her hands, and the girl beyond them, who is lying propped against the bed.

He reaches into his coat and pulls out a revolver; now the girl jerks her head toward him, and his hands tremble. The gun drops to the floor and skitters away.

She takes a step in his direction, the intent in her eyes clear. The man opens his mouth; he is the one that is terrified now.

Then the girl suddenly turns away, and begins to run, her breath coming in choked sobs.

* * *

><p><strong>Sweet dreams are made of this...who am I to disagree<br>**


	2. Who am I to disagree

**A/N: Thanks for reviews! Sorry it's been a while...did a major major move, and a bunch of other stuff. **

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 2.<strong>

* * *

><p>The man is now driving a black Oldsmobile, his eyes darting to and fro between the road and the girl in the passenger's seat of the car. Her head lolls on her neck; her eyes are half-lidded. The injection she'd been given last night is slowly wearing off.<p>

She gazes out at the passing, rain-sodden scenery outside her window with dull, vacant eyes. Her face is even paler, if that is possible; her dark hair is parted into two pigtails on either side of her head, and the expression she wears—like her clothes, stained pajamas—is the same that she has worn since seeing the woman's body the other night: tragic.

Outside the car, the sky is as grey as her heart, and the rain falls steadily on the drowning landscape. The droplets hit the windshield in great splatters, making a _plop__plop _sound. Intermittently, the wipers cross this expanse, with a _shrup__ shrup._

The engine whines as the car begins to travel uphill, all eight cylinders straining at the increased workload. The man leans forward to read a sign on the right; she sees it a few moments later.

_Sutton Facility for the Mentally Insane. _

The girl blinks, surprised at the burning in her eyes. She realizes that this strange, foreign emotion is intense longing, a fervent wish to actually _be_ insane.

Yanking the steering wheel roughly to the right, the man says something under his breath. The tires spit gravel everywhere; turning the engine off, he leans over the back of the front seat, and fixes her with a stern and wary look.

The girl is silent, since her voice is dead. She levels her wide, distressed eyes on the man, and he grins back, pleased with himself.

_Ca-click!_As his door opens, and with a groan, he steps out.

Two people are already crossing the parking lot to meet them. All the girl can see is their starched, white uniforms. She scrambles for the handle of her door, her face infused with panic, her lips forming words: _no,__no!_

Suddenly the barrier gives way, and she falls out of the vehicle, her hair like a black cloud that highlights her bloodless skin.

_Thump,__thump,_as her knees hit the gravel. She looks down at the glistening pebbles around her, then up, meeting the eyes of the attendants.

She sees _pity._

It's raining quite hard now.

**…**

_**BRRRING! **_

The man's fingers leave the bell, and the receptionist looks up, from behind her glass cage. She picks up a clipboard and passes it to him through the slot in her prison; he accepts it with a nod, takes a pen from a cup beside the window, then heads to the waiting area, his gaze on the form he is to fill out.

In the strong grip of the attendants, the girl waits, her features stiff and frozen in a wide-eyed expression.

Her guardian begins to scribble.

"L. Kinney…Female…seventeen…" he murmurs aloud; as he passes the girl, her eyes fall on the clipboard. She can see checkboxes that are marked off: _Violent,__ Danger__ to __others,__Unable__ to__ adapt __to __social__ situations__…_

The girl swallows, her eyebrows drawing together.

She watches as the clipboard is passed back to the woman, and then hears the noise:

_**ERRRR!**__** CHINK!**_

__Nearby, a set of heavy metal gates open at the touch of a button; the attendants tug on her arms, indicating she is to move into her new prison. For a moment she fights wildly; she is punched in the stomach, and then she ceases, hanging her head and allowing them to drag her in.

_**KLANG!**_as the gate closes behind them, a very final noise.

**…**

The asylum smells sterile; the walls are a gloomy off-white, and all the fixtures are made of metal. Overhead, the light is harsh; colors seem less vibrant under its glare. The girl's throat is tight. She has never been in so miserable a place.

A nurse appears; a stack of cloth is shoved toward the girl, and she is forced to accept it. _A __gown._She swallows, and watches as the woman reaches out and takes the suitcase containing her worldly possessions from one of the men restraining her.

They move forward again, toward another gate. In front of this is a man, his golden-brown eyes fixed intently on the girl that is being brought toward him. His arms are folded, and his handsome, even features are set in an expression of brooding. He appears to be in his mid-twenties, his medium brown hair bearing no hint of gray.

As the group reaches the man, he switches his gaze to the girl's guardian. "You're the father?" he asks.

"Step father," the older man says, in a curt manner.

"That's right," the first says. His voice bears a hint of an English accent, though vague; probably a refugee from the war, or a second-generation Brit. "We talked on the phone."

A plastic name tag on the white coat he wears says that his name is _Xander__ Rice._

The two men nod at each other, in recognition. The younger one bows his head, and flips through the forms on the clipboard.

The girl's eyes focus on something wrapped around the British man's neck: a key, gleaming slightly in the dim lighting of the corridor.

"Okay," the man says, breaking her gaze as his hand snaps around the key. "Bring her in. We're going to take her into the theater." He turns, and begins to open the gate behind him. "Dr. Frost's going to want to take a look at her."

The girl is lead through, and hears the gate _**KLANGG **_closed behind them. Rice increases his pace so that he is now leading them down the hallway. They turn, and pass a section with many steel doors on either side; through these, the girl can hear the muffled sounds of laughter and screaming.

A few moments later, they reach a large set of push doors, and Rice pauses, grinning. "So this is what we call 'the theater'." He seems to find the term to be mildly amusing.

They enter into a large room, filled with a stage, and some plain looking cafeteria furniture. There is a large stage in the front, on which is an ancient looking four-poster bed, and beside it is a chair. Both of these are situated in front of what looks like a background prop.

"The theater?" Her guardian asks, in a disapproving tone.

"The kids use this place to be social. Dr. Frost uses it to help them deal with their issues. 'Therapy', she calls it." He grins again. "It's pretty entertaining, watching them act it out, or whatever. Dr. Frost seems to think it will help them, but I'm not so sure. But whether it does or doesn't won't matter much to you, since once we take care of a little bit of business, there won't be any of that for this one."

"Good," her guardian says.

"She'll be in paradise, if you know what I mean…and all of your troubles will be over, right?" Rice grins, again.

Papers flip behind the girl.

Her eyes lift toward the woman on the stage, who is now leaning over a record player, inserting a large vinyl circle. Her light hair is almost white, and is swept back into an elegant bun; she could be called beautiful, if her features weren't so lined and careworn.

"I know we said fourteen hundred over the phone," Rice whispers, "but I'm taking a really big risk here." He pauses. "So it's going to have to be two grand, even."

"What the hell are you talking about? Don't try and cheat me…we had a deal!"

"I said…Father…I'm not going to tell you what to do, clearly you're a man who can take care of yourself. I don't know what you did to this girl, and frankly, I don't want to know. But what are you going to tell the detectives when they come snooping around? I'm sure they'd love to get her side of the story."

On the stage is a bed, situated behind the doctor. Sitting on this bed is a boy, about the age of the girl. He is holding his knees to his chest, and is looking down at his feet. He has dark hair, like hers, sticking up in all directions.

Behind her, the guardian considers. "Yeah," he says, finally, and pulls out his wallet. Money changes hands, and the girl continues to stare ahead.

"I am going to start your music," Dr. Frost is saying to the boy, on the stage. "You're safe up here. It is all…safe. Let yourself be free. Relax, and just…let go."

She flicks a switch on the record player, and music begins to play; a gentle, warbling tune that almost lulls the girl into sleep.

"Here's the other thing," Rice says, behind the girl. "I don't have an on-staff surgeon who does lobotomies—"

"_What?_" the older man hisses.

"—but, there just happens to be one coming in. He'll be here in five days. So I'll just forge her signature…I've done it a thousand times." His voice has dropped to a calming whisper, as he nods toward the woman on the stage.

The girl's eyes lower, and she stares at nothing now.

"It's like we talked about," Dr. Frost tells the boy. "You control this world."

"—told the police she lost her mind when her mother died," the girl's guardian is saying, his voice gruff. "The truth is a little more…complicated."

The boy looks across the room, with a weary expression, and for a moment their eyes meet; faded blue and terrified green. There are purple bags under his.

She closes her mouth slowly, as with his eyes he silently tells her what to expect.

"Let the pain go," Dr. Frost tells her patient. "Let the hurt…go." She pauses. "Let the guilt go. What you're imagining right now…that world you control…that place can be as real as any pain."

"…don't want her to remember a thing." The girl's guardian is saying.

"Don't worry…she won't even remember her name when I'm done with her," Rice promises.

**…**

The next few days pass quicker than the girl would like, the last days in which she is to remember her life. The last days _of_ her life.

She sits in the theater, at a table all her own, her green eyes staring into thick space, her mouth held slightly open with all the screams she'd like to make but can't. Around her the others talk, whisper, giggle.

"…fresh meat," a girl off to the side says. She is scruffy-looking, with brown, almond-shaped eyes, high, flat cheekbones, and a shallow nose. These foreign features are covered with pale skin, and are framed by unevenly cut dark hair.

"_Don__'__t!_" her neighbor says. This one is pretty, with brilliantly red hair sprawled all around her in greasy locks. Her skin is freckled, and she has big, luminous blue eyes, almost too big for her face.

Across from these girls is a dark skinned boy. His eyes are almost black in color, and his full lips and broad features are set into a sullen expression. He doesn't speak.

"Hi," a voice says, very softly on her left. She turns her head very slightly, and sees the boy that had sat on the stage, that first day. The horrible day, the day that came after she'd died, and left this shell to walk the earth.

She can still smell the blood on her fingers.

He looks like he wants to say something more, but he doesn't; and when the girl opens her mouth, her voice isn't there. She clears her throat, trying to make a sound, but all that comes out is dry air.

All they can do is exchange desperate looks. _Help__ me._

"I—I saw you come in," he whispers finally.

She nods, slowly. _Yes._

He nods, too, his eyes still on hers. They seem bruised. "I think…before…we could've been friends. Maybe. But…" he trails off, and she understands, _before __here._

The girl's lips part. "Yes," she mouths.

"Be _**QUIET!**__**"**_ A voice barks, in a heavy accent of some kind that the girl can't identify. The source of the noise is an enormous dark-skinned woman at the end of the hall, presiding over the patients, and she is dressed in a nurse's uniform. Her nametag says _Kimberly__Muran_.

Both the girl and the boy start, and exchange guilty looks. Then they look away, and that is all.

**…**

Gritting her teeth as salty tears streak down her cheeks, the hot fluid blinding her, the girl cries silently, her arms folded across her chest in a mummified pose. She lies on a sort of couch, while the kind woman, Dr. Frost, tries to soothe her.

"I can't help you if you won't talk to me," she says softly, the clipboard in her lap gripped tightly. She looks like she longs to reach out and stroke the girl's forehead, but she restrains herself, the box checked _Danger__to__others_standing between them.

On the doctor's desk sits a bottle of Chanel No. 5, her mother's favorite brand. It seems to glow around the edges, slightly; a golden outline.

Her tears had started upon seeing it.

**...**

As they walk through the asylum, the girl's senses become unbearably bright. She sees heavy lines around each object, as if they are outlined in ink of some sort; living, moving ink. Passing the open door of Rice's small office, a golden glow stands out; turning her head, the girl sees an emergency evacuation map.

They reach the end of the hallway, and the guard leaning against the window of the guard booth looks up, flipping the silver zippo lighter in his hand as he lights his cigarette. The girl's eyes slip past his bulky figure to the sign on the glass behind him; _All__ doors __open__ on __detection__ of __fire._

In his hand, the zippo begins to shine around the edges, with a gentle golden hue.

**…**

"Hey, sweetheart," Rice says.

The girl looks up from the toilet she is cleaning with a brush, her eyebrows drawn together. The key on his chest is outlined in the same golden hue of earlier, and it dangles just within her reach. Taunting her with its freedom.

"Come with me now," he tells her. "We're going to make the pain go away…make it _all_ go away! Wouldn't you like that?"

_NO!_she tries to scream. _NO!__NO!__NO!__NO!_

All that comes out are small puffs of air.

Rice grins. "Maybe you'll be able to talk again, too."

**…**

"Goodness, what's this…the twentieth today?" the doctor murmurs, wiping his forehead on his sleeve as he enters the room, in which the girl is sitting, strapped tightly to a metal chair. On either side is an orderly, and they both wear somber expressions.

"Right…she's strapped in well?" he asks.

"Yes, Dr. Xavier," one of the assistants say. "She won't move an inch."

The doctor reaches to the table, and lifts a shining metal mallet with one hand. With the other, he grasps something that bears resemblance to an ice pick.

"Keep her head tilted back," he instructs, bringing the tools towards the girl's face. Her wide eyes burn an intense green in contrast to her deathly pale skin. _What __a__ pity_, the doctor thinks. _She__'__s __a __very __beautiful __girl. __Hopefully __the __operation __will __give__ her __some__ relief._

She says nothing as the pick works its way into her tear duct, finding the fragile area of bone. He reaches back with the mallet with an expression of tense concentration, their eyes lock for a moment, and then…


	3. Travel the world and the seven seas

**_**A/N: **_**Dear Liu: Fuck you. Love, onelildustbunni. PS: Happy holidays everyone!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3.<strong>

* * *

><p>"<em><strong>!<strong>__**!" **_The girl screams as she has never screamed before, her long, dark hair waving in a cloud around her as her head is thrown back. Her lungs are burning, exploding in her chest, as she expels every emotion she has ever experienced.

_**"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHGHH! AHHGGGGGG! PLEASE STOP! AHHHHH—AHHHHH—AAAHHHHHGGGGGGG!" **_

"_**AHHHHHHHHGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!" **_

"_**NNNOOOO!" **_

"_**SSSSTTTOOOP!"**_

She twists violently in her confines.

"_**HOLD HER STILL!" **_someone roars. Strong arms clamp over her wrists.

Sharp things pierce the pale flesh of her arms; _needles. _She feels the burning, pinching feeling as substances are injected into her…and then…

Nothing.

**…**

The girl slowly becomes aware that her cheek is pressed against a cool, ridged surface; and for a while she just lays still with her eyes closed, trying to absorb what's happening to her. Everything feels strange; the hum in her ears is too loud, as is the sharp, pungent odor passing through her nostrils. The air is stale.

She becomes aware that there are other people in the room with her, and she slowly raises her head, her eyelids parting. Immediately she gasps and uses her arm to try and shield herself from the furious, blinding light.

"That _girl's_ awake," someone murmurs. Hesitantly she peers past her arm. The speaker is a boy, sitting several feet away, his knees pressed to his chest. He looks very tired, with purple bags under his eyes, and his dark hair is very unruly. He doesn't, however, seem to be all that unusual, compared to the individuals that she sees next.

"I don't trust her," another person whispers. She turns her head, and sets her eyes on a girl seated near the boy. She has beautiful, slanted brown eyes that seem to be full of mistrust; high, flattened cheekbones, and a shallow nose, all covered by pale skin; and framing this expanse is a shocking mass of violent blue locks.

"What's your name?" a third, feminine voice asks, in a strange, echoing tone; as if she is speaking through a pipe. This girl has brilliantly red hair, and—wonder of wonders—everything else is made of extremely reflective, silver-toned metal; even her eyes.

"She has a tattoo," the boy speaks again. "It says X-23. Maybe that's her name."

"Where?"

"On her arm."

The girl looks down, and her lips part in surprise. There, on her forearm, in large block letters.

"Don't be stupid, Hellion. That can't be her name." This from the girl with blue hair. She sounds scornful.

"Why can't it?" the boy asks defensively.

"He's right," the redhead says. "Everyone in _here_ has a different name."

"I guess." The blue-haired girl purses her lips. "That true? Your name is X?"

They're all looking at the girl now; she blinks, several times, in confusion, as her eyes take in the room around her. White, grubby tiles on ceiling, floor and walls; thin, tube-like white lights that flicker slightly for illumination; and at the end of the chamber, a heavy metal sliding door, with bars across its small window.

"Give her a minute," another voice says. Calm and collected. She turns her head and sees a dark skinned boy, with broad features and full lips set in a serious expression. He is unremarkable except for his eyes, which are so dark they appear to be black. "She's probably in shock."

"We're _all_ in shock," Hellion says, his voice hollow.

"Yeah," the metal girl agrees, nodding.

Silence.

"Why—" X sits up slightly, her eyes on this strange being. "Your skin…"

"We've all got powers," the boy that had spoke to her first says. "We're students. Or were students…at a school in New York."

"Powers?" She asks. "Like…magic powers?"

The blue-haired girl snorts slightly, and Hellion breaks into a slight grin. "No…it's in our genes. We're special….we're mutants."

X recalls articles she has read in the newspaper, about genetic research. Are these people the result of scientific tampering? She pushes a lock of hair out of her face, eyeing these others as warily as they eye _her. _

"You must be one, too," the boy says, his tone sharper, as if he knows what she is thinking. "A mutie. To be here, I mean."

"Where is _here?_" she asks.

The others look at each other in confusion; then Hellion says: "But you were here before us. Don't you know?"

She shakes her head.

"The lab," he says. "They turn us into killing machines here. Weapons. They're trying to make us into an army, see."

X's pink lips form an _O, _but before she can respond, there is the heavy sound of booted feet stomping on tiles, and then the door at the end of the cell is hauled open, making a rattling noise as it retracts.

All eyes turn to the newcomers. There seem to be three predominant ones, as the military-like figures surrounding them don't really seem to register.

The first and most prominent is a man in a lab coat. He is somewhat good looking, with even features, medium brown hair, and golden eyes. Despite these facts, the hairs on the back of X's neck rise.

On his chest is a nametag; _Dr. Xander Rice_; this seems to glow around the edges.

His two companions are female. On Rice's left is a large, rough looking, woman. Her skin is dark, the color of milk chocolate; her features are blunt, and her unkempt hair is wiry. She looks very strong, like she could break the girl with one hand.

To Rice's right is a much more gentile looking person; a lady with soft, ash-blond hair and delicate features; her light blue eyes and full mouth are kind and concerned. At the same time, the girl knows that she isn't a push over, by any means. This other woman tilts her head as she studies the inhabitants of the cell.

All three of the newcomers are holding clipboards.

"Get up!" Rice barks. "Time to prove you're worth all the feed and care we've been giving you, stupid animals."

"Training time," the prettier woman says, her voice gentle in comparison.

The boy that X had been conversing with shoots a powerful, hate-soaked glare at the woman. "You—" he spits out, between gritted teeth. "We _**TRUSTED **_you! We—"

"That will be enough, Hellion," the woman says firmly. "Follow."

"_**NO!" **_the girl with blue hair snaps.

"Don't waste my time. _**TAZE THEM!" **_Rice bellows. Instantly the inmates are swarmed by the soldiers, and several cry out as they are touched with long, buzzing sticks. X scrambles to her feet in the confusion, and is hit in the back with one of this 'taze' devices; she lets out a shriek, arching backward as she stiffens in midair.

**…**

The girl is dragged into an enormous metal room, the likes of which she has never seen before. Her green eyes flicker over her new surroundings as she gets to her feet.

The room is empty, except for her; up above is what seems to be a sort of observation booth, with thick glass paneling for walls. The man and his two assistants have entered this, and are staring down at her with a critical air. Behind them—restrained by a small troop of soldiers—are the other inhabitants from her cell.

"_**PREPARE FOR TRAINING!" **_Rice's voice—magnified a hundred times—thunders through the room. X gasps and covers her ears in pain. _**"PARAMETERS: KILL **_**ALL **_**OF YOUR OPPONENTS WITHIN ONE MINUTE."**_

"_**DON'T DO IT, X!" **_Hellion shouts before the man can let go of the microphone button.

The girl breathes hard, with uncertainty.

"_Beginning simulation," _a cool, mechanical female voice says, from a speaker somewhere on the ceiling. "_In three…two…one…"  
><em>Suddenly, the girl is not alone. Her eyes widen in panic; moments later she is flung across the room by what looks like a Samurai.

_**THUNK! **_as she hits the wall and slides down. Her eyes flutter, and her head lolls on her shoulders; she begins to lose consciousness.

Frost touches the arm of the man in charge, then he steps aside, and she is the only one standing at the front of the observation booth. She leans over, and the girl suddenly hears her, as if she is whispering in her ear.

_If you do not kill, you have no purpose. And we do not keep things that have no purpose. _She pauses, her icy blue eyes focused on the girl. _You see, your fight for survival starts right now. You don't want to be judged? You won't be. You don't think you're strong enough? You _are. _You're afraid. Don't be. You have all the weapons you need. Now _fight.

The girl looks up at the woman, blinks.

Behind her, the boy named Hellion is roaring at Frost, his face pale and his eyes bulging slightly as he shakes in anger, his arms restricted by the man wrenching them backward in a rough manner. She sees him mouth: _Never again!_

Frost does not turn around as she responds, her face impassive.

The boy shouts back, shaking his head violently.

"_**ENOUGH!" **_Rice snaps, his voice magnified. He is at the front again, and he reaches out and presses a button on the control board.

"_Beginning simulation," _The ceiling voice says again. "_In three…two…one…"_

SPPPPZZZZZ,

a soft noise overhead. Clouds of vapor are filling the room, fed in through vents in the corners.

X's eyes drift closed.

**…**

When she opens them again, she arches her eyebrows, looking down. She is wearing different clothes now; a kind of one-piece school dress. It is black, and has yellow ribbons for accents. Socks reach up to her knees; her feet are firmly encased in heeled shoes; and her hair is arranged into pigtails.

Her head pivots as she takes in her surroundings—which are now different.

X is standing in the middle of a large, circular, gravel driveway. Before her is an enormous brick mansion, looming over her like a monolith. Its empty windows glint menacingly, like eyes; judging her.

Above a short flight of stone stairs, the front door swings open, slowly, with a _creak._

She swallows, and takes a step forward, in a hesitant way; as though the building will bite her. When nothing happens but the _crunch _sound of her foot on the gravel, she takes another step, and then another, toward the door.

"Hurry it up, kitten. I ain't got all day."

A man has appeared. He is leaning against the doorframe, his arms folded. X stops; suddenly rooted to the ground. She examines this new being with wide eyes.

He looks just as she remembers him: physically fit; stern, rugged, weather-beaten features; dark hair that goes in every direction possible; heavy eyebrows; kind, blue eyes. His flesh is wrinkled in both smile and frown lines, the perfect balance, in her opinion.

She has not seen this face since she was eleven years old.

"Father," she mouths, unable to speak.

The man nods. "Now, what are you here for?"

X blinks.

"What are you _here_ for?"

"I—I don't know," she says uncertainly.

"Yes, you do," her father says, his voice firm, in the way it had been whenever he'd needed the girls to understand something important. "You're here for a reason, and you need to be clear about it. What are you here for?"

She shifts, making the gravel _crunch_ lightly. "I…well…I guess I want to find my way out of wherever I am…you know, be free."

"You _guess_?" He stares her in the eye.

"No, I—I know," X restates, her voice a little firmer. "I need to get out of here."

"Alright." Her father straightens. "I can give you the weapons…but it's up to you to use them. You understand, sweetheart?"

"Yes," she says.

He unfolds his arms, and she realizes two objects have appeared on the stairs separating them. The first is what seems to be a Katana in a carrying sheathe; she recognizes it from her old encyclopedia book page showing Japanese Samurai. The second is a small revolver that reads _Colt _on the mother-of-pearl handle. She knows it was once her father's, kept in his nightstand; he'd let her hold it every time he cleaned it. Unloaded, of course.

"Oh," she says softly.

"When you take these weapons, you begin your journey to freedom." Her father's voice is stern again. "You don't have a lot of time."

X kneels down and shoulders the Katana, then picks up the revolver with shaking fingers. She feels her eyes burn and she looks up at the man, biting her lip.

"Good," he says. "I have another weapon for you. Go on and pop them."

"What?" she asks.

"The claws. Pop them."

She looks at her hands. _The claws._ A memory persists, like an itch; a deathly silence, the feeling of dampness on her knuckles. Blood. Not hers.

"I don't know how," she murmurs.

"Yes you do." The girl's father squints as he examines her. "Get on with it. We're in a hurry."

X closes her eyes, and thinks. How best to make them emerge? She balls her hands into fists and shifts back and forth on her feet for a moment, as if she needs the bathroom. Nothing.

"You're not trying."

"I _**AM!" **_she snaps, and with that: _**SNIKT! **_

She stares down at the long, creamy white claws, layered thickly in mucus and streaks of red. The murder weapons. Her eyes start to burn again, but the man cuts over this.

"This should help." he says. Suddenly the projections are smooth and metallic. The edges are sharp, like knives. She stares. No longer are they cruel, freaky-looking talons; now they are streamlined, gleaming and sophisticated. Almost…alluring.

"They can cut through anything…and trust me, it's going to come up." Logan grins as the girl reaches out with one finger and tests the edge. "Ouch!" she yelps, immediately drawing away; there is a bead of red blood on the area that had been cut—but there is no cut.

"That's your last weapon," Her father says. "No one can stop you, kitten, 'cause you'll just heal right up. Now…there are five things you'll need to get on your own."

He pauses, and studies the girl. "You listening?"

She nods.

"Good. Okay. The first is a map…then you'll need fire… a vial of trigger scent… and a keycard. You with me, kitten?"

Again, the girl nods, albeit a little uncertainly. "You said I need five things…but you only listed four."

Her father nods. "The last thing is the reason of the journey…the goal. It's a deep sacrifice and a perfect victory. Only you can find this…and when you do, it will set you free."

X swallows.

"You have all the weapons you need, kitten," he says. "Now…fight."

Barely has he finished saying this when she is knocked aside by an enormous _paw._She crashes into the doorframe and falls to her knees; behind her is a slavering noise. A growl…an animal noise.

Gritting her teeth, X looks over her shoulder, and sees a strange beast. It resembles a cross between a dog and a bear; however, it is much bigger than either, and covered in shiny, flexible metal.

"Oh!" she says, her eyes widening in terror.

The beast lunges, and she is sent crashing through the wall. She shrieks and hits the ground on her back, now inside the building. Desperately she tries to collect her breath, but the animal has sent fragments of the doorframe flying as it pursues her.

X reaches to her back and grasps the handle of the sword. Tugging, she is rewarded with a _shinng _sound, and the unsheathed Katana. But what to _do_ with it? Her attacker is coming for her again, and she feels very useless.

"_**AAIIEEE!" **_she screams, as the _thing_ clamps down on her leg with its mouth. Reacting on instinct, she brings her sword down—_swoosh—_and cleaves it into the shining dome that is the animal's head. It squeals, and something bright and blinding leaks out of the wound; then her leg is free and she is scrambling to her feet, breathing heavily.

_What—_

There is no time. Two more of the beasts are tearing through the doorway, and X lets instinct guide her this time. She is like chained lightning as she dodges charges, avoids paws and pulls limps out of the way of snapping fangs. Her katana slices open the belly of one opponent, and it crumples to the ground, the same strange substance oozing from the gap in its silvery skin.

_**WUMPF!**_

"_**AWWK!" **_X drops the katana instinctively, as the beast bites her in the abdomen. She throws her head back in pain, and lashes out with her hands; to her surprise, the excruciating grip slackens. The animal whimpers softly, and looking down, she sees that her hands are fisted tightly as they press against the sides of it's head.

Her knuckles are coated with the otherworldly substance that must be a kind of blood.

The girl pushes the head away from her, then picks up her sword and wipes it on the corner of her skirt, and re-sheathes it. A slight smile crosses her slightly parted lips.

**…**

X opens her eyes, still panting.

"_Simulation complete," _the overhead announcer says.

Her eyebrows draw together, and she turns her head. She starts slightly, seeing bodies, the _dozens_ of bodies. The broken weapons. The puddles of blood.

She then tilts her face downward, and registers the sight of the long, gleaming blades between her fingers. Her brow furrows even further. Scarlet liquid is dripping slowly to the ground from the instruments of murder.

Movement catches her eye, and she looks up to see the three observers talking excitedly. She can hear the rise and fall of their voices, and Rice is shaking his clipboard, a wide smile plastering his face.

"The trigger scent is a hundred percent effective!" He says, seeming pleased. She can hear _what _he is saying, now.

"I'd call that a hundred and _ten _percent, darling," Frost says.

X's eyes slip past them to the prisoners. All of them are staring at her, their eyes wide, their faces pale and twisted; a shared expression of disgust.

Something in her falters for a moment, then steadies, and she looks back at them defiantly, breathing hard through her nose with gritted teeth. She flexes her fingers.


	4. Everybody's looking for something

**_ANNOUNCEMENT: Two new stories-Like a Boss: Tainted Love and We're in This Together Now, along with the update wave! Enjoy! :o)_**

_**A/N: **_Thank you for the great reviews! :o) 

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4.<strong>

* * *

><p>Emma Frost follows the man into his office, as he chats enthusiastically about the girl's talents. "She's more deadly than I ever could have imagined!" he says. "You really did a wonderful job, wiring up her mind with that trigger scent."<p>

The woman smiles slowly. "Thank you," she says.

Rice sits down behind his desk, runs his hands through his hair. "Oh man. I think—you know that big job coming up? For the Kingpin?"

Frost's smile fades.

"She's ready!" he says, almost shouting.

"No, she's not. She's far too raw," the woman protests. "She doesn't even have a uniform yet. None of them do."

Rice sits up. "Excuse me?"

"You said that they would still be my students," she says, with an air of importance. "I only helped you because you said they would still be mine."

"They are," he says. He gets up, and moves around the table, his eyes dangerous, locked on Frost's icy blue ones. "But _you…_" he reaches out, grabs her chin in his hand, and she trembles slightly. "_You _are mine, Frost. And by extension…so are your students. Do you understand?"

Shaking slightly, Frost nods.

"Or do I have to remind you of what I can do?" Rice asks. "You can't see inside my head…I took care of _that. _And I can blow your precious little head up at any time I want." He pauses. "Or your students. Wouldn't that little Hellion shit be better without his head? Then he'd stop _bleating_ at me all the time."

"Please…" Frost breathes.

Rice grins, the dangerous look fading from his face. "Since you asked so nicely, sweetie pie! But she _will_ be ready for that mission, okay?"

After a moment, a long drawn out moment, the woman nods, and Rice laughs.

"Excellent," he says.

**…**

"What _was_ that?" Hellion hisses, later.

They are back in the cell, licking their wounds and trying to gather courage. Or X is, at least. She gazes at the boy.

"I did what had to be done," she says finally.

"No one has to kill!" He says angrily. "No one has to obey them! I'd rather rot in this cell for the rest of my life than do what they say."

X smiles slightly. "Well…I wouldn't. I'm getting out."

Silence. The others look at each other uncertainly.

"I have a way," she says. "I have a plan. I know how to get out. I need some things…but I _know _how we're going to do it_._"

"Really?" the metal-skinned girl asks, her voice soft and hopeful. She is lying on the floor, her cheek pressed against her arm.

"No, Mercury! We can't trust her!" Hellion looks at the redhead angrily.

"If she knows a way to escape…" Mercury sits up. "Even the _chance_ of her knowing a way to escape…that's good enough for me."

"No! Just no! I'm not losing you…not going to let you take crazy risks. She's a _murderer._" He turns his glare to X.

"We'll all be murderers pretty soon if we stay here," the blue-haired girl pipes up, from where she is leaning against the dark-skinned boy. "That's what they're training us for. To be their assassins…and worse. I'm with you, X. Lead the way."

"If Surge goes, so do I." Her companion's voice is calm.

"You _would!" _ Hellion says, his tone dripping with venom. "Mercury's out…and so am I."

"You don't speak for me!" Mercury hisses.

"Yes I do!" he snaps. "You could get hurt…you could _die!_"

"Do you call this living?" the metal-skinned girl asks, her voice a little softer.

A few moments pass, and Hellion looks uncertainly at X, then grits his teeth together.

"What do you need?" he asks.

X lets out a breath she hadn't realized she's been holding. Mercury grins, scoots over and envelopes the boy in a hug. "I _knew_ you wouldn't hold out on me!"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm only in it because you guys are going to get yourselves killed without me. But I have a condition. If I see it getting hairy…and I say it's over…it's over, okay guys?"

"You got it!" the metal-skinned girl says.

"Sure," Surge says.

Hellion looks at X, and she hesitates, then nods slowly. "Yeah…okay."

"Okay," he says.

The girl gets to her knees, and crawls closer. "So, the things we'll need...a map…then fire…a vial of my trigger scent… a keycard and the codes to the doors."

"I'll get the map," the boy says, without hesitation. "I can move things with my mind…and I know where one is. I saw it when they brought us in."

"Awesome!" Mercury says. "Oh man…I can't wait to be out of here."

"Me three," Surge says.

X smiles slightly, and catches Hellion's eyes. She hopes he doesn't see weakness or fear in her face…because these people need her to lead them right now.

**…**

Sometime after this:

Everyone looks up as the huge steel door begins to rattle as it slides out of the way, to reveal a group of soldiers, dressed in full combat gear—head to toe—and wearing heavy duty gas masks. The men are wielding cattle prongs; X can see bright blue sparks travelling in between the gaps on the ends of their weapons.

"You!" the man in the front says, pointing at Hellion. "Get up, you piece of shit."

"Out of da way," a female voice says. The men part, and in the space the menacing woman of earlier appears, her broad features set in a scowl. She looks at the boy and her lips tighten, while her eyes sparkle slightly.

In her hand is a syringe.

"You been called to the Office," she says. "Rice wants to talk to _you._"

"Whatever," Hellion says with a defiant curl of his lip, but his tone wavers, as his eyes fix themselves on the medication.

The woman advances.

"Oh my god," Mercury says softly, but X gives her a look of warning. She knows that the boy has something planned; best to let him call the shots right now.

Now the dark-skinned woman is stabbing the needle into the boy's bare arm. He hisses, but X, who is watching intently, sees the tip of the syringe bend sharply to the side, so that the drug—which, no doubt, is a sedative—never touches him.

Glancing up at his face, the girl sees a strange green light fading from the back of his pupils. It reminds her of the blood of the creatures she'd fought, in the courtyard.

"Awright," the woman says. "Get up, boy!" She kicks Hellion in the side and he makes an _ooooph! _noise, then scowls at her.

"Do as I say."

With a pointed glance at X, the boy gets to his feet, and allows the woman to force him toward the doorway.

**…**

"Do you understand why you're here?" Rice's voice is soft, as he looks over his desk at the boy. Not that he is much older than Hellion; perhaps by four or five years. That is where their similarities end, because the former's face is filled with greed and sadistic pleasure, while the latter wears an expression liken to that of a stubborn martyr.

The boy remains silent, his lips pressed together in a line, his neck flexed tightly as if he is swallowing something unpleasant. His faded blue eyes are like brick walls: impassable.

Rice doesn't like this. But he _does_ like breaking people like this.

"Kimura…let's show him, shall we?" he says, off-handedly, to his enormous assistant.

She nods, steps forwards, and grasps both of the boy's wrists with a large, heavy hand…and wrenches.

Hellion says nothing. Muscles jump in his temples as he grits his teeth.

"Come now," Rice says lazily. "That's hardly going to make him think twice."

Kimura nods, and sets to work.

"Ugh!" the boy lets a small gasp slip, as his arm slips out of its shoulder socket with a _pop!_

"GRRRNK!" as her hand twists his wrist, and it begins to make crackling noises.

_**"RRRRGH!" **_as she manipulates his dislocated arm.

"_**ARRRGH!" **_She's pulled out a scalpel now.

"_**AHH!" **_His cries are getting louder as his face gets bloodier.

_**"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?" **_he roars, as she withdraws a smoking, blood-covered cordless drill from his shoulder.

"_**JESUS CHRIST! PLEASE, STOP! STOP!" **_

The grill torch pauses in the wound, and Kimura looks up questioningly.

Rice grins. "Sorry, kid, that's not what I want to hear. You _know_ what I'm waiting for."

"_**FUCK—" **_Hellion sees the drill coming again.

**…**

The girl stands with the others, in the metal training room. She'd listened to the faint sounds of his screams until Frost had come and retrieved the rest of the cell's inhabitants, for 'training'. "I don't like what is being done to the boy," she says in a gentle voice. "But it is necessary. You aren't at the school anymore and will have to accept your new environment. Let Hellion be an example to all of you."

"We can't just stand around and let them torture our friend!" Mercury hisses. "We have to _do _something!"

"What _can_ we do?" the dark-skinned boy asks. "They'll hurt us…or even kill us…if we try to stop it. And they'd kill _him,_ to make a point."

"I think you'd be more concerned if it was _her_ in there, Prodigy," the redhead says, her tone sharp as she nods toward Surge.

"He's right, Mercury," the girl with blue hair speaks up. "Besides…remember his duties to us?" She is talking about the map, but has avoided saying so in case Frost can hear.

X watches the woman in the observation box, as she fiddles with controls on the panels before her. "What are _her_ abilities?" she asks.

"She can read minds," Prodigy says. "And turn into a diamond."

"Read minds?" she echoes, now looking at the boy. Her concerns are apparent.

"Relax. She'll only read what we _project. _So as long as we're careful about our thoughts when she's near…"

"_**ALRIGHT, I'VE SET UP THE SIMULATION," **_Frost's voice echoes loudly through the chamber. _**"THIS SCENARIO WILL FOCUS ON TEAMWORK, SINCE X-23 IS A NEW ELEMENT FOR THE REST OF YOU…AND YOU ONLY HAVE FIVE DAYS TO PREPARE FOR YOUR MISSION." **_

"What _mission?_" Surge demands.

"_Beginning simulation," _the mechanical ceiling voice says. "_In three…two…one…"  
><em>

X's eyes drift closed.

**…**

"Alright, kids, we've got our work cut out for us," a familiar voice is saying.

The girl opens her eyes with a small gasp, and looks eagerly at her father. He gives her a small smile, then his vision shifts, and she too looks around. Standing on either side and slightly behind are her cellmates, including Hellion, who looks unhurt—despite his hoarse yelling of few moments ago—and determined.

Everyone but herself is dressed in black leather uniforms, with yellow combat gear like straps, harnesses, eye shields, gloves and heavy lace-up boots. In contrast, X is suited in the skirt with ribbons, as if she doesn't need the extra protection.

"The enemy's attacking in force," her father says. "Lucky for you, they're stupid enough to think that God's on their side." He grins. "They haven't seemed to realize the big man in the sky don't give two shits about any of us."

The man pauses, surveying his troop. "You'll be fighting Purifiers today….religious fanatics who think you have dirty blood, because you're different. It's up to you to show who's superior. But remember…your ultimate goal is the map."

X's eyes widen.

"That's in the enemy's base camp. You'll need to fight your way across the field, and probably fight the General, too, before you can get it." Her father surveys them. "Ready, guys?"

"Let's get to it," Hellion says, on her right. She glanced at him, and sees the determination in his faded blue eyes, the stubborn set of his mouth, the slight wrinkling to his nose. He's going to get revenge for something.

She has a brief knowledge—like a memory—of the sound of his tortured cries; and then it is gone, and she wonders again who he's trying to get revenge _on_.

"Good luck, kids!" Her father slides out of view.

Now they are walking, marching forward onto the battlefield, joined by their purpose, their mission. Before them is a sea of bodies, a nearly solid, white mass of enemies that are wielding firearms and other weaponry.

All aimed at them.

With a roll of what sounds like thunder, triggers are pulled, and bullets fly. The air in front of them ripples slightly, and the ammunition never reaches them; it halts in midair.

Turning her head slightly, the girl sees that Hellion's eyes are lit from within, a brilliant green color. His expression is now livid, and silently states: _people are going to die. _The shrapnel turns tail and explodes outward, back to its origin.

A faintly blue blur passes X, and she sees that the others have taken this as their cue to dive into the battle. She charges forward, reaching to her back for the handle of the katana; her heart is pounding in her ears. She feels a kind of rush, as if she enjoys this, as if she is filled with the energy of the fight.

X whirls the blade in a wide circle over her head, then brings it scything down on the white mass surrounding her. A splash of warm blood rains on her face; she twirls the sword and jabs backwards, catching a man who had sought to shoot her point-blank in the back. Then her katana is in the throat of the woman on her right; sweeping through the legs of the man on the left; swinging down to split the head of the large, bulky person in front of her.

Her opponents become blurred, distorted; they no longer have genders, or faces, or religion, or even a name. They are just a writhing mass of material for her blade to carve, as if she is a divine sculpting artist of flesh.

"_**X!" **_screams Mercury, from several yards away. She finishes introducing her katana into her opponent's stomach, then yanks it out, and runs toward her companion, who is stumbling backward, confronted with an enormous…robot?

"_**TARGETS ACQUIRED!" **_it informs them, in a many-toned, mechanical voice.

"Oh _shit!_" Mercury says. "I think it's a—"

"Why the _**HELL **_is there a pink robot here?" Hellion butts in rudely.

X glances at the boy. He is breathing hard and similarly splattered in blood, but does not appear wounded; his eyes seem, somehow, to be more alive.

"Never mind how it got here…let's just destroy it," she says.

The boy glances at her. "I like the way you think," he comments. Then all three of them are pelting the pink chassis, using various attacks.

_**CHINK! CHINK! CHINK! **_as X's katana rams into the robot's side, drawing a trail of sparks on impact, but not penetrating. She makes a high-pitched, rolling noise of frustration, then throws her katana aside.

"We're not affecting it!" Hellion yells.

X stares up at the robot, her dark hair swirling around her pale face like a cloud. Her features are set, fixed in seriousness; she's trying to _remember. _

Then she does.

_They can cut through anything…and trust me, it's going to come up._

Uncertainly she looks down at her hands. Before her eyes, a picture flashes briefly; a memory, faraway and distant, where it can't touch her. A face so like her own, the mouth open slightly as blood forms bubbles at the corners, her eyes wide, and not comprehending.

Shaking her head slightly, she spreads her fingers.

_**SNIKT! **_

"Move back," she tells the others.

_**SHLUNK! **_as the blades between her digits slide into to unyielding body of her opponent like it's skin is made of butter. Exerting gentle pressure upward, she hears grating and sparking noises as she cuts through various components inside.

"Cut it to pieces, X!" Hellion yells, from a few feet away. That is all the encouragement she needs. She brings her other hand smashing into the midsection, and there is a huge explosion of bright white light.

"It's down!" Mercury says. "Come on—the tent's that way." She points ahead of her; X withdraws her claws and re-shoulders her Katana, feeling—in some way—vindicated, as if she is doing what she was born to do. She follows the others, her green eyes very vividly alive.

After about five minutes of on-and-off running and battling, the group sees a large tent.

"How do we do this?" Mercury asks.

"I think…I think we just _do_it!" X says, reaching back and pulling her sword out. "We charge them…take them by surprise…Hellion, you get the map. We'll storm the general."

Inside the tent, the General looks up sharply, as the edge of a blade rips through the fabric at the door. He reaches out and grabs the edge of the map on the table in a hurried manner, his eyes bulging.

_Shrrrrrip! _

X pushes the useless cloth out of her way and meets the man's eyes. Behind her, Hellion gasps.

"That's William Stryker!" he shouts, after a moment. "He—he _killed_ my friends! My _best_ friend!"

"Well," X says, her eyes still on those of General Stryker's. "Now we kill him back."

"You can try!" the man snarls.

"No," the girl replies, her Katana covering half of her face as she holds it up. "I _will._"

"Take that map away! Don't let her get it!" the General shouts, shoving a rolled up tube into the hand of a courier, who turns and runs out of the tent through a door on the other side. "No! Go _after_ him!" X shouts, as Stryker begins to charge, a hunting knife raised in his hand and a savage grin on his face.

Hellion runs out of the tent after the courier; Mercury is fighting Stryker's minions…and now X is in action, every fiber of her being focused on hitting the General with her sword, but he is just as fast as her. Around and around they dance, their blades hitting the tent support poles instead of flesh.

Then the General unexpectedly reaches into his coat, withdraws a pistol, and shoots, catching X in the shoulder. She cries out, but the pain is over before it has begun.

_That's your last weapon. No one can stop you, kitten._

X reaches to her side, pulls out her father's revolver, and holds it up at the General's surprised face. Then she depresses the trigger. _**BANG! **__Click. __**BANG! **__Click. __**BANG! **__Click. __**BANG! **__Click. __**BANG! **__Click. Click. Click…_

William Stryker falls backward, light shining out of the horrible mess of his head. X looks at her revolver, realizing she's run out of bullets; just as she's thought that, Hellion reappears at the door to the tent, out of breath. "I couldn't catch him!" he pants.

"I'm finished here," she says, moving toward him. "In what direction did he go?"

"He grabbed onto a plane ladder before I could stop him. I can only carry one unit at once, and I was lifting myself…but I'll fly us there…c'mon."

Moments later, they are ripping through the air at what must be several hundred miles an hour, their hair pushed back flat, their eyes narrowed to slits, their clothes billowing around their frames like kites. X sees the aircraft; a shining bomber plane, in specific a Junkers Ju 88 model. On its sides are painted black circles, with a white cross; and below the flier hangs a rope ladder, at the end of which dangles a solitary figure, dressed in the Purifier robes and hoisting a tube with a strap over his shoulder.

The girl reaches back and withdraws the Katana from its casing. _**"BRING US IN CLOSE!" **_she shouts over the wind, struggling to speak around the roar. Her mouth is very dry as Hellion somehow adjusts their trajectory; that ladder is growing close, and she'll need to do two things at once.

"I'm going to cut the ladder…and you're going to drop me," she says, her lips against the boy's ear.

_**"ARE YOU INSANE?" **_he shouts back. _**"WE'RE THOUSANDS OF FEET IN THE AIR! YOU'LL DIE!" **_

"No, I won't," X says, her green eyes glued to the target. "Nothing can kill me. Be prepared." She repositions the sword in her hand, and reaches out as they near the ladder; with one swift slash, the blade slices cleanly through the rope, and the Purifier lets out a blood-curdling screech as he stumbles backward into nothingness.

"_**NOW!" **_she shouts.

_**"NO!" **_he insists, looping around. Suddenly they are rushing toward the ground, the force of gravity adding speed to their descent. X blinks away the tears, preparing herself by reaching out; within a few moments, they are level with the falling Purifier, and she has less than half a second, but it is enough. Her hand closes around the strap, and the map is suddenly in her possession.

_**"I'VE GOT IT!" **_she screams in triumph.

Beside her, Hellion grins; they meet the ground and skim it by inches, then he lets them go. After a gentle tumble, the girl rights herself and scrambles to her feet, then holds the tube above her head and closes her eyes.

**…**

"Take him back to his cell," Rice says in disgust, his eyes on the bloody figure sitting on the hard chair, his dark haired head bowed forward so his chin touches his chest, his slowly bruising eyes held shut.

"Are you sure?" the woman standing behind this boy asks. "I could cut something off." _Chock! _as she slams the blade of a large knife into the wooden post of the chair. "Something small, to start. Token. A finger…or…"

She licks her teeth, and Rice laughs. "While I admire your bloodlust, Kimura…not today. I'm a generous man…and I'm going to give him time to think this over." A menacing pause. "I'm sure he'll make the right choice, won't you, kid?" His voice is entirely serious now, his eyes bulging slightly as he leans over his desk.

Hellion doesn't respond. Rice grins and gives a nod to Kimura, then heads around his desk to the door; she bends down and begins to roughly yank at the straps tying the boy to the chair. She doesn't notice the slight glow his pupils, or hear—amongst the ripping of straps—the slight _shrrrip _sound, as the map on the wall of Rice's office detaches, and zooms toward him, then disappears down the front of his shirt.

"Come on!" the woman hisses, grabbing Hellion by his injured arm and dragging him to his feet. "You got lucky this time, boy…but don't tempt me!"

He doesn't answer, just licks the blood off his lip.

**…**

X opens her eyes, to see that everyone is staring at _her _again. She looks down to her hand; the map is not there. She feels a momentary swell of panic, and swallows, then

her eyes raise to the observation booth.

Frost's icy blue eyes are glued on her, and her alone.

"_**WELL DONE," **_her voice comes again, echoing in the room. _**"X, YOU ARE MAGNIFICENT. A WELL-OILED MACHINE. YOUR TEAMMATES, HOWEVER…" **_a pause. _**"THEY NEED TO LEARN TO BETTER WORK AROUND YOU. YOU ARE THE STAR, AND THEY ARE THERE TO MAKE THE EXERCISE EASIER FOR YOU." **_

X looks around slowly. The other kids have expressions of horror, curiosity, confusion…and anger.

"I'm _**NEVER **_going to get good at killing, Frost!" Surge shouts.

"_**YOU WILL NEED TO IMPROVE QUICKLY IF YOU WANT TO SURVIVE," **_Frost replies coolly. _**"YOU HAVE BEEN ASSIGNED A MISSION IN FIVE DAYS TIME…AND YOUR CLIENT IS THE KINGPIN."**_

Gasps. The others stare at the woman with wide eyes; X fails to understand who the Kingpin is. Judging from the reactions of the others, however, he is not someone to be trifled with.

The doors open, and the soldiers enter the room, holding their cattle prongs high.

**…**

"_**HELLION!" **_Mercury screams, breaking free of the soldier's grip as they enter the cell, and see the boy curled up on his side, in the corner. He's bleeding heavily from many perforations and holes in his skin; he's got multiple lumps and swellings, including his eyes, which are only open to slits. It is painfully obvious that he has been brutally beaten.

"What did they _do_ to you?" she demands, kneeling by his side. X approaches slowly, cautiously, her wide green eyes asking a question.

For a moment, she doesn't think the boy even recognizes her.

Then, his head moves. Up and down, very slowly. _Yes. _

_He has the map. _

X relaxes slightly, and she lifts her head higher.

The door rattles as it shuts behind the troop of soldiers, and Hellion sits up slowly, the metal girl beside him protesting, but he ignores her. His hand goes to the waistband of his ragged pants, and as he pulls his shirt out of the way, the map is revealed.

He pulls this out and holds it up toward _her. _"Get us oudda here," he says, between his swollen and split lips.

X nods, reaching out. Her fingers close around the paper. She makes a fist with her other hand, and—_**SNIKT!**_—the claws burst out, from between her knuckles, reflecting the sterile white light of the cell. Everyone takes an involuntary step back, except for Hellion, who watches her with swollen eyes; and she realizes he's not afraid of what she will do, because he is already _in_ a lot of pain. More wouldn't matter.

She kneels, and begins to cut one of the tiles out of the floor. After this she gently pries it up with a claw, then scrapes a small space in the cement underneath in which to store items. A few moments later, she slips the paper in the gap, and replaces the square.

"One down," she says.


End file.
